


Of coffee shops, sycamores, and 99 cents

by silvervelour



Series: Of oil paints, monologues, and 36 questions [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Art student Sasha, Coffee Shop, F/F, Lesbian AU, Recreational Drug Use, Sequel, Smut, Theatre student Shea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvervelour/pseuds/silvervelour
Summary: She could picture the blonde girl under the orange fluorescent lighting of the cafe, lips caressing the edge of her coffee cup, leaving stains of red behind as she took away droplets of creamy coffee that would stick to the corners of her mouth.Her hair would be illuminated tangerine, probably, dark shadows being cast upon her cheeks from her long eyelashes coated in layers of mascara, winged eyeliner defining the faint, barely noticeable creases of the delicate skin around her eyes when she chuckled, or grinned, expressive mumblings tumbling from her being.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! I wrote this as a little 3 part sequel for Of oil paints, monologues, and 36 questions partly because of all the lovely comments you guys left, and partly because I'm still kind of in love with this lil universe that I've created. I hope you enjoy this!♡

 

The room smelt like coffee and pastries. It was the definition of a relaxed Sunday afternoon spent lazing happily in the confines of a beloved childhood home, with reruns of age old sitcoms playing infinitely on an old television with a fuzzy picture.

Rich, aromatic, earthy wafts of air tickled at Shea's nose, steam rising from the fresh latte in front of her, sat on the solid oak table, heating her already flushed cheeks. A Tiffany lamp hung from the ceiling above her chosen secluded booth at _Delacremé_ , patterns of terracotta reflecting off of the peach sunglasses resting on her head, keeping her hair out of her eyes.

Shea tapped her foot haphazardly under the table, swaying rhythmically to the soft, smooth jazz playing in the background. Saxophones and pianos made up the focal point, synthesisers and glockenspiels emanating from the background. It was _quiet_ , more so than it usually was, noted Shea. Few people were scattered throughout the quaint establishment at the unusual hour.

A group of middle aged women in floral printed, flouncy blouses sat around a stand alone table in one corner of the room and an elderly couple reclined on plush armchairs sat in another. Shea could spot a regular customer or two, also, hovering by the counter, picking up a coffee in a to-go cup and chatting animatedly to the baristas about their daily routines.

The coffee opposite her, across from her own cup caught her eye again, an overly sugary blend of caramel and hazelnuts with a drizzle of butterscotch that Shea had initially thought was delusional when Sasha had rattled off her order through the course of numerous text messages. A part of her still thought it was, almost, yet an intrusive wave of realisation told her that it wasn’t.

It was _Sasha_.

Sasha who was sweet, an artist, with her skin always speckled with a variation of colours that created pathways and illuminations and her wavy blonde hair that fell unreasonably naturally on to her strong shoulders. Her questionable taste in clothing and alluring, echoey voice that she drawled out, elongated, without realising; _mostly_.

Checking the time on her phone, Shea smiled to herself. _One o’clock_. It was the time they had both agreed on, despite Shea being adamant that she’d show up early, order both of their coffees, ensure that Sasha could sit right down at their booth when she arrived. She could picture the blonde girl under the orange fluorescent lighting of the cafe, lips caressing the edge of her coffee cup, leaving stains of red behind as she took away droplets of creamy coffee that would stick to the corners of her mouth.

Her hair would be illuminated tangerine, probably, dark shadows being cast upon her cheeks from her long eyelashes coated in layers of mascara, winged eyeliner defining the faint, barely noticeable creases of the delicate skin around her eyes when she chuckled, or grinned, expressive mumblings tumbling from her being.

Shea could feel her thighs sticking to the burgundy leather of the seat, her palms sweating anxiously, too, the heat transcending from her barely drank coffee doing little to help. Pushing it to the side, allowing the breeze from a spinning copper ceiling fan to hit her temperate cheeks, forehead, neck and eyelids, Shea inhaled anxiously.

Nervously, maybe.

Uncertainty filled her momentarily, worries of the connection she thought she shared with Sasha dwindling and diminishing into nothingness, without being heavily intoxicated or discussing work, without the security of familiarity. She knew it wouldn’t, probably, was confident and reassured, certain enough that her attraction towards Sasha was reciprocated, yet the nagging twinge of it being a possibility circulated wildly; persisted unforgivingly.

Unable to see the entrance of the shop from where the booth was situated, Shea relied on the chime of the antique bell above the door that would sound religiously every time a new customer would arrive, select their seat or make their way directly to the counter, order their coffee or herbal tea of choice.

It had rang twice in the previous passing minutes, Shea had acknowledged, the first customer a woman in her thirties clothed in a professional business suit, kitten heels rubbing at the bones of her ankles, irritating blisters growing. She’d barked off her order, unkindly, refusing to tip and stomping on thick calves out of the shop moments later, petite coffee in hand. The second was a teenage boy, a few years younger than Shea, undeniably, oversized denim jacket and embroidered jeans allowing him to blend in with the authenticity, the eccentricity of the decoration of the cafe.

It tinkled a third time, pendulum hitting the brass, metal casing of the bell, melodic screech echoing around the room, the occasional head turning in vague observation; uninterestedly. Shea knew it was her. It couldn’t not be, Shea mused to herself lightheartedly. Sasha stumbled elegantly around the corner, breathlessly, Shea’s face breaking out unapologetically into a gleaming grin, eyes sparkling as she wiped off the sweat from her palms onto her shorts.

Sasha’s usually wavy hair was pulled back into a low bun, loose strands framing her face, tickling her cheekbones. Clothed in a slouchy, comfortable sweater and cut off shorts of her own, Sasha glided over to where she knew Shea would be sitting, a text from the darker haired girl earlier in the day pointing out that there were booths around the back, shielded from prying eyes.

 _She’d be there_.

Shea'd told her to dress casual, informally, Shea herself simply wearing cut off shorts and an oversized shirt, and She liked it. Liked how Sasha already looked at home, at ease. Comfortable in her surroundings, the scrutiny of her slightly dishevelled appearance from the noticeably judgemental middle aged gaggle of women in the corner; irrelevant.

Standing up, Shea greeted Sasha with a small wave, holding her arms open readily, waiting. Sasha grinned in return, a timid _hello_ being mumbled into the side of Shea's hair, the silky strands muffling the volume as she stepped in to Shea's space, arms encircling her waist as Shea's looped around her neck loosely.

The fabric of Sasha's sweater was soft to the touch, and Shea found herself fondling the material, tracing unknown patterns on Sasha's back subconsciously. Smiling to herself, Sasha pulled back, Shea squeezing her shoulder and her own hand lingering at Shea's waist, the curve of her hips apparent beneath the oversized garment.

" _Hi_ ". Exhaled Shea, slipping back into the booth, Sasha taking the opposite side and dropping her bag down next to her, zips clanking and jingling, strands of hair blowing across her face and restricting her eyesight before she brushed them away with nimble fingers.

Shea's imagination, the image she'd conjured up of Sasha was unjust. The stained glass of the lampshades didn't make her hair look tangerine. Instead, a luxurious topaz; richer. She couldn't decipher the faint lines around her eyes as Sasha smiled warmly up at her, the small area too lowly lit, too dim, making the whites of her eyes appear more exaggerated. _Vibrant_.

Red lipstick wouldn't end up on the rim of Sasha's mug. Her lips were coated in a deep nude, Shea processed, or maybe they weren't painted at all, the slight glossiness to them catching the light. Drawing it in and capturing it, holding it captive. Shea leant one elbow on the table, crossing her legs underneath it, feeling the tack between her thigh and the leather of the seat release.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late, I stopped at Katya's on the way and got held up". Apologised Sasha, grimacing. A loose strand of hair fell back into her eye irritatingly, though she let it be, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, scrunching them tightly.

"Don't worry, I haven't been here long". Stated Shea, a reassuring smile upon her face. She hadn't, really, ten minutes or so at the most. Blinking up to see Sasha sigh in relief, a giggle slipped from her lips, her hands coming to wrap themselves around her still molten mug of coffee.

"Oh, good-". Sasha breathed, deflating. She tucked the pesky tendril of hair behind her ear, gold earrings reflecting the clementine light. Mirroring Shea's movements and encasing the mug of confectionery between her sweater clad hands, she continued. "-you know how Katya is, once she starts telling you something she doesn't stop, _especially_ when Trixie's there too".

Shea laughed openly, lifting the mug to her mouth, covering her growing smile and blushing cheeks. Nodding, she pushed her sunglasses further back on her head as she felt them slipping from their position. She placed the mug back on the coaster, sliding it to the corner of the table.

"Those two are-". Shea trailed off, the sides of her mouth quirking and contorting in to a sly smile. She shook her head to herself, shrugging her shoulders. Brazenly, Sasha chuckled, head tilting back and jaw tensing as the veins in her neck became more prominent.

"You know, they'll keep on denying it, but - they're definitely _something_ ". Concluded Sasha, lifting her own mug to her lips, sipping at the calming beverage. Shea watched in awe as she retracted the mug, whipped cream and caramel drizzle sticking to her top lip before she licked it away proficiently with her tongue; tantalisingly, in a way.

"You're not wrong, girl. I'm just glad you managed to escape them and made it here alive". Shea joked, forcing her gaze away from Sasha's lips and instead to her eyes, pleasure streaked through them, the addictive taste of sugar flowing down her throat. Smirking, Sasha placed the mug down on the coaster opposite Shea's.

"I didn't, actually. I died. I'm a ghost right now". Sasha deadpanned, barely succeeding in keeping a straight, unaffected face for more than the amount of time it took for Shea to quip back, retort, a smirk larger than the blondes plastering itself across her face.

"That would explain why you're _so_ pale, then".

Sasha's eyes bulged, her jaw dropping before snapping closed again, a smile threatening to overtake her offended façade. Blanching before her face flushed pink, blushing, Sasha raised her mug once again, cocking a sculpted eyebrow towards Shea. Shea's teeth nibbled at her bottom lip anxiously, red indentations becoming visible on the expanse of sensitive skin.

"Is it too late to cancel this date?". Sasha mumbled into her coffee, draining it slowly. Her tone remained teasing, as a coquettish hint of a smile plastered itself across her lips, mug being placed back in its original spot. Rising her arm, she moved to place one elbow on the table, chin resting comfortably in the palm of her hand.

Shea blinked. Stirring a florally engraved silver spoon around her latte, focusing on the way the waves mimicked the palpitations of the thumping heart in her chest, Shea's intense gaze travelled up to meet Sasha's. The blonde leant forward slightly, noticeably, the distance across the wooden sea between them decreasing significantly. Grinning, her pearly teeth shimmering as she moved further under the light hanging from the ceiling above them, apricots and corals dancing along her forehead, she placed her free hand daintily upon Shea's wrist.

Halting her thoughts, Shea allowed her movements to stop, coaxed herself in to allowing the coffee to stand still, to not stir it methodically, persistently. Sasha smiled contently, her thumb stroking soothingly at Shea's wrist before she squeezed it reassuringly, pulling away once she was satisfied that Shea's seeming anxiety, nerves, had been quelled enough.

A minuscule amount.

"Sorry, yeah, maybe you should have read the terms and conditions first". Managed Shea, chuckling lowly, the smirk returning to her face. Sasha shrugged her shoulders slowly, loose strand of hair falling back into her line of vision. Shea felt like Sasha leant in further, closer, could feel herself being drawn in. Like magnets, Shea mused to herself, north and south, positive and negative conjoining. Shea moved in, too, cautious of her mug placed on the table.

"I've never read the terms and conditions in my life and I don't plan on starting now". Sasha bantered, recoiling and reclining in her seat, the soft leather of the booth welcoming her body, enveloping it. The song playing faintly from the speakers in the background changed, switched to a 90's acoustic ballad that took its time travelling throughout the room.

Silence surged between them. Sasha kept a fresh, newly shy smile radiating from her face with her cheeks flushed and forehead furrowed as Shea searched the the chasms of her mind for a response. She couldn't recall when somebody's presence had last made her feel this intimidated, or unsure.

She tried to fathom _how_ ; how she had always taken pride in her rarely shakable confidence, never allowing others opinions and words to infiltrate her thoughts and subconscious, leaving her shaken. It had never happened, she'd remained guarded. Cold, to some. Independent, to others.

But Sasha managed to do it, albeit unwittingly, had shaken her thoughts and transported them to an unknown realm and left them there; unattended. She'd flown the rickety plane to a desolate town and left Shea there alone, the only remnant of her a smudge of paint across her heart, and had ripped off the bandaid protecting Shea's open wounds on the way, leaving with a smile and a singular kiss to her cheek.

 _lips ignored_.

Shea liked it. One couldn't call it love, yet, she understood that. It wasn't gradual or faithfully consistent, it was sudden and highly emotional, more idealistic than realistic and based on feeling rather than a commitment. Though she knew it could be, soon. Could transform into something supportive and freeing, not possessive, where she could appreciate Sasha's internal character more than she already did.

Nodding her head, a smile transmitted across Shea's face as she broke her focus on the swirls of maroon lighting cascading down the length of the wall to the side of her body, and instead connected her eyes with Sasha's. The blonde's leg bumped against her own under the table, the soft suede of her shoe tickling her bronzed skin.

"Mhm". Murmured Shea, her pupils dilating, vaguely acknowledging Sasha's comment yet absorbing it, taking it in. Sasha's forehead evened out, the crease in her eyebrows vanishing as she relaxed her face, softened her gaze. Tension dissolved and melted away, Sasha continued sipping lightly at her sweet, caramel drink, Shea following.

"So, how did you find this place? It's really cool-". Sasha breathed, her short, freshly painted cherry red nails tapping at the white porcelain of the mug. Shea's shoulders slumped, relief encompassing her. "-Plus this coffee is like, the _best_ ". She proceeded, a satisfied hum leaving her lungs.

"I came here once a few years back when I first moved here, and I never really stopped-". Shea rubbed her thumb over the raised printed _Delacremé_ logo on her mug, a cupcake surrounded by swirls and cartoon hearts. Sasha nodded her head, listening intently to Shea's words, an understanding murmur urging her to continue.

"-The owner, Dela, is such a sweetheart, and Kasha the baker makes the best cakes you'll ever try. It's just really welcoming, familial y'know? Not to mention that things here are rarely above _99 cents_ ‘cause Dela likes to keep it affordable, it’s great". Concluded Shea, a glint in her eye that told Sasha that this place, _Delacremé_ wasn't just a coffee shop to her. It was a place of safety and insurance, a sanctuary and a home.

"That's really sweet, I like it". Sasha simpered, her enjoyment of the cafe as evident as Shea’s. She observed as Shea grinned sheepishly, her nose crinkling and pillowy lips curving as she fought against the pride, the heat threatening to rise in her already rosy cheeks. Shea mentally cursed the warm, disfigurative lighting momentarily.

“You do?”. Shea despised how her voice shook and wavered, and how Sasha’s grin only proved to grow as she spoke even as her eyes remained receptive and kind; non judgemental. Sasha reached out a pale hand, warm from holding her almost empty mug off coffee in Shea's direction, the younger girl immediately reacting and interlacing her own toasted fingers with Sasha's.

Squeezing once, twice, Sasha didn't let go. She stroked her calloused thumb across Shea's knuckles, watching intently as Shea's eyes trailed over the royal blue veins that lay under her skin, between bones and tendons and muscles. Sasha could feel the pulse of Shea's blood quicken, throbbing in her grasp, feeling alive. Shea squeezed back; once, _twice_.

_She didn't let go._

"I really do, it's like New Orleans only it's in New York. Homely, I guess is the right word". Sasha's gaze broke from Shea's, instead moving to travel around the room. She wasn't lying, wasn't deceiving Shea when she said she liked it. She did, loved the authenticity and legitimacy of the characteristically unique cafe.

The atmosphere was light, airy, the copper fans hanging from the ceiling above keeping the temperature moderate and the aesthetic chic. Monochrome and vignette polaroids were clustered on pin boards, old newspaper articles adorning the borders of the cream walls, the choice of lighting making them appear more titian than magnolia.

Every booth was different. The one Shea and Sasha were sat at was all dark oak and wine coloured leather, contrasting to the one behind them which was bleached beech wood and woven vanilla calico. Each had an incomparable light fixture, some magenta and terracotta, others alpine green and chartreuse; a forest of pine cones and acorns, timber and spruce.

Shea's eyes blazed with intrigue as she toyed with a question balancing on the tip of her tongue, brushing it against the inside of her teeth as she pondered further. Sasha reached the end of her coffee, the final dregs of overly sweet syrup getting caught on the edge of the mug.

"Do you have anything else to do today?". Queried Shea, her own coffee nearing its end. Placing it down, she used the same free hand to remove the ever sliding sunglasses from her head, folding them neatly and discarding them onto the seat beside herself. Shea brushed her hair carelessly behind her shoulders, Sasha shaking her head slowly, skeptically.

"No, I'm all yours". Sasha beamed, allowing Shea to glide her fingertips across the shiny, lacquered surface of her varnished nails. She maintained a quizzical expression upon her face, only dropping it as Shea began elaborating.

"Share a cake with me?". Proposed Shea, eyes hopeful. The corners of Sasha's mouth upturned, Shea untwining her hand from the blondes and moving it to rest on her own thigh as Sasha nodded her head yes vigorously. Grinning, Shea leant back in her seat, the cool leather a welcomed sensation to her overheated body.

"Any recommendations?". Sasha arched an eyebrow, her forehead creasing on one side as she did so. Thought clouded Shea's features as she uncrossed her legs, preparing herself to stand, make her way to the counter, order what she knew Sasha would like - because she did, too.

"The classic brownies, Sash. The best, the only, cannot go wrong at all".

Sasha smiled gleefully, the sound of her name rolling elegantly and enticingly off of Shea's tongue appealing greatly to her. Resting her chin on both hands, interlinked and crossed, with her back slouched and eyes sparkling in delight, the Russian lowered her tone.

 _"I trust you"_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha peered over Shea’s shoulder briefly, her eyes landing on the items of her own clothing strewn across a velvet armchair that Shea kept in the corner of her room. Her jeans were scattered in an amalgamation of shirts belonging to herself and shorts belonging to Shea, and it felt like she had been cemented into Shea’s life. Her idealistic paintings, her worn brushes and ink stained hands had been placed centre stage, with Shea dancing next to her and around her; everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to give the biggest thank you to every single person reading this! all of your lovely comments keep amazing me and warm my heart so much! i just find it incredible that my writing can be so loved, so thank you, and as always, i hope you enjoy this part♡

The autumnal months were Sasha's favourite, and they'd arrived quickly. A summer of lust and intoxication came and vanished, speeding past at lightning velocity, leaving kaleidoscopic blurs of enigmatic colour in her vision and faint, passionate lipstick marks across her body and soul.  

October and November differed greatly to July and August, she'd come to realise. Trees transformed from heavy green moss to ochre, to orange and to; falling. Leaves would descend from their branches, arms and fingertips releasing them before they dwindled elegantly, through gusty breezes to the harsh ground.

Sycamores lined walkways of parks, as cherry blossoms sprinkled their confetti onto the shoulders of passers by, contrasting with their dark clothes, a combination of sweaters and jackets and warmth. New york rarely reminded Sasha of chicago, yet when autumn arrived annually, drowned out the chaotic summers, covered them in a layer of brown leaves and frost, she felt at home.

Sitting on a plaid patterned picnic blanket that katya had no doubt picked up from a shifty, ambiguous jumble sale or thrift store, Sasha lifted her head, tilted her neck backwards as rays of sunlight caressed her pale skin. Leaning back onto her hands, balling the fleecy fabric up in her fists, she focused on Trixie’s ramblings towards Katya echoing faintly in her ears, the quiet commotion of the park around them infiltrating her thoughts.

It proved to be a distraction. Her mind drifted away, floated downstream to the sound of an elderly couple walking their equally greying dog, all wrapped in crocheted sweaters and knitted scarves, until the hand placed securely on her thigh squeezed. Once, twice. Glancing to her left, Sasha grinned, the dark haired girls face being framed delicately by amber leaves and optimism.

 _Shea_.

“Did you hear me?”. She mumbled bemusedly, gripping Sasha's thigh, her metallic gold nails leaving crescent moon shaped indentations even through the coarse denim of Sasha's jeans. Shaking her head, signalling _no_ , Sasha's eyes flickered across to Trixie and Katya, both girls staring at her intently, Katya with a lit cigarette balancing between her lips precariously.

"No - sorry I was, _wherever_ ". Sasha confessed, cheeks blushing heatedly even in the cooler air of early November. Shea chuckled, nudging Sasha gently with her elbow as both Trixie and Katya continued to eye them jovially, the darker blonde blowing smoke over Trixie's shoulder, sending it into the atmosphere surrounding them.

"When did you know?". Repeated Shea, removing her hand from Sasha's thigh and instead choosing to rest it on her own as she awaited Sasha's reply. The Russians eyebrows remained furrowed as she sat up straight, the muscles in her back tensing as she did so, clicking and releasing.

“Know what?”. Sasha drawled, her tone calm despite being confused, perplexed. Fiddling idly with a loose thread of cotton hanging from the sleeve of her sweater, Sasha blinked up towards Shea, her eyes wide and seemingly innocent. Giggling airily, Shea opened her mouth, her lips parting before Katya interrupted easily, rolling her eyes.

“When did you know Shea wasn’t just a hot girl you got stuck making a costume for, _bitch_?”. Grunted katya, her voice tight as she exhaled smoke slowly, the hand that previously been holding the cigarette to her lips coming down to her side, extinguishing it on a patch of grass. Trixie eyed her cautiously, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of smoke.

Laughing openly, Shea rotated her body to face Sasha, with her eyes hopeful and lips curved up into a languid smile. Cheeks flushing the colour of the vermillion leaves scattered around the park surrounding them, Sasha leant into Shea, shoulders brushing and hands intertwining. Shea could hear Trixie aweing subtly in the back of her mind, could almost feel Katya rolling her eyes again, also, as Sasha’s marginally weather chapped lips met hers in a velvety embrace.

“I feel like I knew pretty quickly. Probably by the end of our first date”.

*****

Brighter. _The room seemed to be glowing. More illuminated than it had been, once, with customers still chattering aimlessly amongst themselves and the staff hustling, gathering cups and plates from tables left vacant by avid native New Yorkers and tourists. Occasional specks of dust could be spotted floating aimlessly, above tables and around faces, light emphasising the microscopic particles._

_Outside, the sun had risen to its pinnacle, its high point. Mid afternoon flares of light permeated the windows of the establishment, combining with the artificial lighting of the lamps scattered across the room. It was still warm, unspeakably so, though the fans hanging from the ceiling kept breezes circulating freely._

_Sasha watched Shea walk away from the table and saunter over to the counter. She moved gracefully, felicitously, with a short skip in her step and her head held high, her dark and glossy hair cascading down the length of her back. It brushed the waistband of her denim shorts, the shorts hugging her hips and upper thighs with a grip that Sasha envied._

_Shuffling further into the booth, Sasha's eyes travelled the lengths of Shea's legs as she propped her hip against the counter and put all of her weight on one leg as the other came to wrap around her ankle. Her legs seemed unrealistically endless from Sasha's angle, light bouncing and refracting off of the supple skin of her shins. Focusing on the delicately defined muscles momentarily, Sasha blinked;_ a trance _._

 _Willing herself to look away, her cheeks burning and eyes flaming with want, the blonde acknowledged how Shea interacted with the staff and baristas at the counter, her smile never once fading. She greeted them with a kindness that Sasha was acquainted with, familiar with,_ maybe _._

_She knew Shea would tip each worker generously, wouldn't dare not, handing over a ten dollar bill when she'd spent less than half of it, telling them that they needed it more than she did, that they deserved it for their hard work and dedication to ensuring the tenuous customers never left dissatisfied._

_Drifting her eyes away from Shea and back to the currently empty spot in front of her, Sasha's attention was captured by the dark haired girls empty coffee mug, balancing daringly on the coaster. She noticed the faint lipstick imprint on one edge of the mug, which would normally be present on her own - she understood - and found it endearing how Shea had most likely avoided pressing her lips to any other section of the mug in order to make cleanup as little hassle as possible for the kitchen workers because she was_ that _person._

Considerate _._

_Sasha wanted to scream insanely, internally, wanted to scream out loud, too, but instead settled for tugging the elastic from her hair loose, relieving the tension forming in her scalp.  She tousled it with her hands, fingers getting tangled aggravatingly in the occasional knot as she silently begged somebody to tell her why._

Why _._

 _Because she was completely unprepared and entirely unready to be so invested, so infatuated with somebody of Shea's caliber, with her creative flair and theatre ambitions, her attentiveness and musicality. Sasha didn't think, never thought that agreeing to help out a friend of Katya's almost girlfriend - Trixie - would lead to_ anything _, let alone the_ something _that it was speedily becoming._

 _But she was ready, she concluded,_ almost _, as she unwittingly and subconsciously watched Shea, walking back towards her carrying a fine china plate and two forks in her free hand. She imagined the picturesque girl similarly. Greeting her on a Sunday morning whilst she was still lazing around tranquilly in bed, her hair a birds nest of ecstasy and misadventures and her body clad in nothing but flimsy underwear and a discarded shirt as she brought Sasha pancakes, or burnt toast, occasionally, because they both knew neither were culinary geniuses._

_She could picture, could feel the warm tickle of Shea's breath against her neck, her legs pressed against her own and fingers wrapping themselves in her equally as disheveled blonde hair. Her darker roots visible from not having dyed them for weeks, and no traces of red or plum lipstick left on either of their lips, only scattered behind ears and across collarbones, over the expanses of stomachs and inner thighs._

Intimacy _._

_Settling back into the booth, Shea placed the china plate down onto the oak table with an echoing click, the two forks that she had picked up following. The leather of the seat felt cold against her thighs as she sat back down, further into the booth than she had been earlier, sasha practically pressed against the brick wall next to them, cheek resting reliantly on the cool surface. Moving away from the people around them, away from reality, Shea slid a fork towards sasha, the blonde picking it up between deft fingers with a sweetly lethargic smile._

_“You should try it first”. Shea broke the silence fluttering between them, nudging the dainty plate so that it sat in the centre of the table, at an equal distance between both herself and sasha. Twirling the fork, the icy metal warming under her fingertips, Sasha nodded her head._

_“I trust you haven’t poisoned me?”. Sasha sank the end of her fork into the corner of the brownie, lifting it to her mouth once she was satisfied with the section she had removed, a drop of melted chocolate dripping off of the edge before she could raise it to her lips, taste its deliciousness. The sugar landed on the rim of the plate, Shea’s face contorting into an amused grin as it did so, Sasha settling for rolling her eyes, albeit affectionately._

_As Sasha placed the piece of brownie into her mouth, enveloping it between her lips, she could feel Shea’s piercing gaze burning holes into her skin, a laser cutting through steel, through the earths crust. A beam of light hitting a magnifying glass in the intensity of the summer sunlight, setting its surroundings on fire, flames circulating and growing, refusing to diminish._

_Sasha moaned a little, breathily, deeply. She was certain as her eyes rose to meet Shea’s, who looked an uncomfortable combination of intrigued and attracted, her focus lingering on the chocolate residue that had stuck to Sasha’s lips, that she had. Had moaned lowly, her leg brushing again against Shea’s beneath the table, the suede of her shoe causing goosebumps to arise on Shea’s rich skin._

_“Ok, that’s_ amazing _, you’re right”. Relented Sasha, maintaining the eye contact she shared with Shea, flicking her tongue over her lips intentionally, sensually. Shea’s eyes widened noticeably as she clenched her thighs, squeezed them together with enough force to crush. Sasha’s fingers gripped tighter at her fork, instead, her fingerprints being left on the silver, moving to break off a second piece of brownie._

_“Told you so”. Breathed Shea, the whisper of her voice cracking noticeably. She crossed her legs tighter, her calves being pushed against Sasha’s further during the process. Intertwining their legs, Sasha outstretched her arm, fork nearing Shea’s lips provocatively. Raising an eyebrow in proposition, Sasha maneuvered the fork closer, chocolate sauce continuing to drip haphazardly onto the plate beneath them._

_Shea nodded her head slowly, giving Sasha the unrequired permission she seeked in order to slide the fork across Shea’s plump, waiting lips, into her mouth, see the sugar get caught on the corner of the darker haired girls mouth as it had to her own. Humming as her lips wrapped securely around the cool metal, dragging and leaving flecks of plum lipstick behind, Shea salivated at the sight of the veins in Sasha’s hand tensing, setting the fork back down to the plate in order to slice off a second section for herself._

_Shea swallowed._

_She knew the attraction was there, blatantly. Knew that it roared like a tigress, flamed like a forest fire and flowed akin to a river, freely. She knew that it wouldn’t vanish, wouldn’t disappear into a cloud of smoke in thin air, ending up as scattered ashes on a rocky, New Jersey beach._

_She expected it to grow progressively, slowly, a seedling transforming into a minuscule sprout with miniature leaves and barely visible buds, before it bloomed majestically. Petals, bright and colourful, would unfold peacefully and agilely, a depiction of fruitfulness. Each petal would fall eventually, never regrowing, never returning. Shea studied the movements of Sasha's jaw as she chewed the brownie meticulously._

Evergreen, maybe.

_They continued, Shea eventually picking up her own fork, ankles remaining wrapped around Sasha's as they finished the brownie between them. Conversation was kept light, despite the apparent tension that didn't seem to quell, an electrical field of equilibrial temptation and captivation. Sasha caught herself, cursed herself mentally as Shea asked her the same question twice, or three times, her attention focused on the elated gleam in Shea's mahogany orbs as she spoke._

_A pause, barely noticeable._

_"Shea! Honey!". Sasha's head whipped to the side, startled, her body tilting in order to glance over Shea's shoulder and around the corner of the booth to the source of the shrill screech. Her chirpy aura greeted Sasha immediately, floored her as Shea's eyes seemingly lit up at the sound of the woman's admittedly raucous voice._

_Shuffling briskly towards their booth, her cheeks flushed pink and flour dusted across her apron, streaked through her hair, she began grinning frenziedly, her ageing hand coming to rest on Shea's shoulder. She was short, Sasha noted. Shorter than both herself and Shea even as her feet stood clad in an artificially red patent leather platform, body swaying with excitement._

_Sasha's eyes crinkled as Shea squinted up towards the woman, sunlight hitting her directly in the eyes and restricting her vision. Clasping her hands together tightly, signalling for the woman to sit down as she did so, Shea reassured the blonde girl, casting an approving nod accompanied by a tentative smile in her direction._

_Shrinking back into the booth, Sasha untangled her legs from Shea's, crossing her own; left over right. Flustered, the woman sat next to Shea, the tea towel that she had been carrying in her hand previously being discarded onto the table in haste. Turning enthusiastically towards Shea, the woman, whom Sasha was entirely clueless about, disregarding the fact that she knew she worked there - at_ Delacremé _\- due to the logo on her apron, grasped Shea's shoulder for the second time._

_"Look at you! You're looking so well dear!". Shea portrayed a toothy grin, the woman's hand slipping from her shoulder and instead to the table, where she perched it daintily, her fingers manicured and adorned with an engagement ring and wedding band. Rubbing her lips together, gloss visibly tacky and sticky, the woman motioned towards Sasha, who had tried to disappear. Tried to vanish, make herself invisible through a spell of witchcraft and wizardry._

_"And who is this lovely lady?". Breathed the woman, tone less jarring than it had been moments prior. Smiling nervously, Sasha glanced towards Shea, silently begging for an ounce, or five, of moral support. Blushing furiously, her cheeks flushing more cherry than lychee, Shea stretched her leg out further beneath the table, searching for something. Searching for any part of Sasha that would ground her, hold her steady, without reaching across the top of the table and grasping hold of Sasha's clammy palms._

_"This is Sasha-". Began Shea, fingers twitching nervously as she fiddled with a loose thread of cotton dangling from her denim shorts. "-and Sash this is Dela, she owns this place". Shea concluded, smiling satisfactory to herself. The woman - Dela - beamed, cheeks puffing and deep set lines around her eyes becoming more defined as she did so._

_"Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you! I never see darling Shea in here with -_ anybody _!". Dela began chuckling to herself, leaving Shea partly rolling her eyes fondly, whilst waiting for the earth to open beneath her, swallow her up, set her whole being on fire so that she could avoid the remainder of hers, Sasha's, and Dela's interaction._

 _"You too!". Managed Sasha, frowning minutely at Shea as Dela spoke._ I never see Shea in here with anybody _. Sasha repeated it to herself, a loop in her mind. Nudging Shea's leg in return, she raised an eyebrow, Shea simply shaking her head_ no _in return, Dela blissfully unaware as she proceeded to rehash the entirety of her morning to Shea._

_Sasha gathered unintelligible pieces of broken conversation, mentions of Kasha’s mishap in the kitchen before they opened shop, late, gathered the blonde, for the first time since opening day; a decade ago. She watched amused, intentionally removing herself from the thrilling conversation as Shea made sure to compliment the coffees and brownies relentlessly, even as she agreed mentally._

_Smiling, Sasha distractedly lifted her mug that still sat on the coaster next to her, to her lips, albeit empty. Doubtful that Dela had noticed, although certain that Shea had, Sasha kept the mug adjacent to her face, her button nose pressed against the now cold china in order to mask, disguise her uncontrollably growing grin. From a barely noticeable smirk, to the most jubilant of joyful exuberances, the synergy between Shea and Dela warmed her heart more than she liked or cared to admit._

_Shea was a tactile person, Sasha understood, words and sentences being emphasised by a fleeting touch to Dela’s slumped shoulder or a pat to her hand that remained resting elegantly on the oak table as she chatted animatedly. Her eyes widened with interest occasionally, narrowing when she felt unsure, uncertain. Shea’s ankle maintained contact with hers even as Dela stood up from their shared booth, mumbling something about chamomile candles and_ how lovely it was to meet you, Sasha angel _. Sasha offered a noncommittal smile, Dela reminding her vaguely of tea pots and spring Tuesday mornings._

_Observing as Dela shimmied away, apron bunched around her waist and thighs jiggling with each step she took, one foot in front of the other, Shea turned back to face Sasha, the Russian having leant forward once again in her seat. Features quizzical, general semblance confused, she leant her elbows on the table and crossed her arms, twiddled the cord bracelet wrapped around her wrist._

_"She's never seen you here with anybody?". Questioned Sasha, her words sounding more like a statement to Shea than they did a query. Shrugging nonchalantly, tilting her head to the side, Shea shrank in her seat, the skin of her thighs dragging irritatingly against the leather of the booth. Sasha's expression remained sceptical, even as Shea sat up straight seconds later, hand placing itself on top of Sasha's in order to stop her fidgeting aimlessly with her bracelet. Both noticed the recurring trend._

Hands; touch _._

_"I've never brought anybody here". Dismissed Shea, only causing Sasha's frown to deepen, her faint forehead creases becoming more pronounced. She flipped her hand in Shea's grasp, strong knuckles resting on the solid table and palm lines pressed against palm lines. Sasha began smiling gently, realisation dawning._

_"No?". The blonde spoke tentatively, her free hand coming to tuck her hair behind her ear, short nails scratching lightly at the sensitive skin of her neck as she did so; shivering. Shea shrugged her shoulders, again, eyes locked honestly with Sasha's, her irises glimmering with allurement and enchantment, the lighting of the cafe seemingly brighter at the later hour._

_"I don't know". Mumbled Shea, shoulders sinking and eyes drooping. She could feel her palm becoming sweaty where it touched Sasha's, heat rising ferociously as she focused on maintaining the intense, unprecedented eye contact._ She didn't know _._

 _Only she did know. Sasha did, also . Knew that this was Shea's place, and nobody else's. Understood that Shea bringing her to_ Delacremé _was her opening up, showing vulnerability, embracing Sasha with open arms and lulling her into her world of quiet nights in her dormitory, rehearsing scripts and singing along faintly to musical soundtracks playing from an old vinyl record player in the background._

 _It was Shea's way of saying_ yes, have me, because I want you.

_"Do you want to get out of here? There's a park a few blocks away and I think you'd like it - we can be that cliche". Proposed Sasha, jiggling Shea's hand, watching her unintentionally matching bracelet follow the movement, falling up Shea's slender arm. Sasha bit the inside of her cheek, Shea's contemplative expression allowing her a further moment of insecurity; briefly._

_The dark haired girl smiled. Sasha wanted Shea to have her, too._

"I'd like that".

*****

Drawing her eyes away from Shea’s and focusing her attention back onto Katya and Trixie, Sasha smiled contentedly. Trixie’s tanned, fuschia pink manicured hand gripped at Katya’s forearm tightly, the questionable beige yarn of Katya’s jacket scrunching beneath her touch.

“That’s like, actually _so_ adorable?”. Squealed Trixie, turning to look attentively at Katya who nodded and hummed her agreement, swivelling so that she faced Shea and Sasha with a devious smirk gracing her face. Sasha shivered, the chill of the early evening making goosebumps appear on her snowy skin even through the thickness of her sweater.

Shea told herself that they’d head back, soon. Back to either of their dormitories, wrap themselves up under heavy blankets and heaters that blasted warm air through vents as they held tightly to cups of hot chocolate and admiration. She wrapped her arm around Sasha's waist in the meantime, holding her close.

"You guys definitely had sex that night, though". Katya intervened, smirk never leaving her face. Gasping, Trixie lifted her hand to Katya’s shoulder where she slapped jokingly. Katya cackled in return, arms flailing and legs kicking outwards in front of her, knocking over an empty carton of juice as she did so.

Both Sasha and Shea giggled lowly, although Shea succeeded in maintaining her composure. Sasha blushed furiously, burying her head into Shea’s shoulder. Sighing raggedly into the crook of her neck as the dark haired girls luxurious strands tickled at her nose, Sasha searched blindly for Shea’s hand.

"Can we stay at yours tonight?". Mumbled the blonde, mere centimeters away from Shea’s ear. The warmth of her breath made Shea shiver, the contrast between the temperature of Sasha’s body and the air surrounding them inexplicable. Narrowing her eyes, Shea looked down towards Sasha. She payed little to no attention to Katya and Trixie who had reabsorbed themselves in their own universe, whispering into each others necks, hands grasping at each others eagerly.

"Why mine? Yours is closer". Frowned Shea, her tone both mousey and puzzled. Sasha shrugged her shoulders slowly, seeking for her eyes to convey what she _wished_ they would and what she _needed_ them to. She blinked once.

"I like your place-". Sasha reasoned sheepishly, nibbling at her bottom lip. Shea smiled coyly, nodding her head slowly in understanding. "-it's homely". She finished, the idea of her own room, her own cold bed and furniture unappealing. She preferred Shea's place, where there were lilac walls and turquoise Aztec patterned bed sheets, pictures of dancers in silver gilded frames hung across walls and vanilla scented candles littered across surfaces.

Shea's place; where she had a draw in her antique dresser filled with her own miscellaneous items of clothing.

Moving her arm up from Sasha's waist and instead to her shoulders, Shea squeezed tighter. Mumbling a breathy _ok_ , Shea placed a sweet, gentle kiss to the top of Sasha's head. Her freshly dyed hair smelt of the same shampoo that Shea always associated with the elder girl, a combination of apples and cinnamon and - _home_. She inhaled slowly, eyes slipping closed momentarily, the soft platinum strands tickling at her nose.

 _They'd stay at Shea's_.

*****

Shea always argued that her bedroom ceiling was white, even if the art student battled that it was _undeniably_ cream and magnolia at its brightest. Sasha laid on her back on the bed, arm tucked beneath her neck and one leg crossed over the other. Listening to the faint sounds of Shea pottering around in her bathroom, which was only situated one thin plasterboard wall away, Sasha glanced upwards. As Shea removed her makeup, brushed her hair, Sasha wondered vaguely how the theatre girl saw it.

How she saw white in a clearly muted cream ceiling and refused to acknowledge that maybe Sasha was right. How she sometimes, too, swore blind that Sasha’s eyes had flecks of green and yellow in them, even if all the blonde saw when she scrutinised herself intensely in the dimly lit mirror of her bathroom was graphite grey and sapphire blue.

 _She didn't understand_. There was a lot that remained for her to discover about Shea, that she knew, yet when Shea tiptoed gracefully, cautiously, into the bedroom so as to not awaken Sasha if she was sleeping, it seemed irrelevant. Shea’s oversized sleepshirt grazed the heights of her thighs, Sasha almost unable to decipher between the silk and Shea’s skin as she shuffled over in the bed, sheets bunching under her back as she did so.

Slotting herself next to Sasha, Shea slid their legs together immediately, wrapped her arm securely around her waist and pulled their heated bodies closer together. Shea’s toes, cold from the glossy hardwood floor pressed against Sasha’s, already warm from the confines of the duvet.

Shivering momentarily, Sasha tucked her head into the crook of Shea’s neck, fighting off the impending cloud of sleep in order to indulge in the sacred number of minutes before they both drifted off, exhaustion evident. Shea hummed, thumb stroking across the smooth surface of Sasha’s cheek, eyelashes fluttering.

“You smell nice”. whimpered Sasha, the rose scented moisturiser that she knew Shea applied every night religiously infiltrating her nose, the slight remaining oil on Shea’s thumb transferring to her cheek and leaving the area glowing. Giggling, Shea’s body vibrated against Sasha’s, the blonde snickering in response.

“You always say that”. Shea continued chuckling, feeling Sasha’s grip on her waist tighten briefly. She shrugged, moving her head so that it laid on the dented pillow next to Shea’s, feeling the other girls warm breath tickle her lips enticingly.

“It’s ‘cause you always smell nice”. Concluded Sasha, the statement sounding juvenile to her own ears. Shea hummed again, placing a closed mouth kiss to Sasha’s defined jaw, before travelling up to her chin, cheek - _lips_. Allowing her eyes to slip closed, Sasha moved her hand from the curve of Shea’s waist and up, under her shirt to the small of her back.

“Can I tell you something?”. Shea exhaled, the hand that had previously been occupied stroking Sasha’s cheek ghosting down towards her collar bones. Sasha grumbled her agreement, sleep threatening to drag her under as she kept her eyes firmly closed.

Shuffling anxiously, Shea’s gaze flickered over Sasha’s face, a depiction of relaxation. Her eyelashes were long, brushing against her high cheekbones, lips pouted and noticeably puffy. With her eyelids slightly shiny, and dainty bluebell veins visible through the delicate skin, Shea felt her chest flutter.

“I love you-”. She whispered, the words feeling correct, perfected, rolling off of the tip of her tongue. Watching as Sasha’s eyes flickered open, pupils dilating and irises sparkling in the singular dim lamp lit room, she began grinning unabashedly. “-Like I, love _love_ you”. She continued, Sasha’s lips contorting into a smile until she was beaming, the smile on her lips growing to mirror Shea’s. Her white teeth gleamed, free from signature flecks of red lipstick.

Sasha peered over Shea’s shoulder briefly, her eyes landing on the items of her own clothing strewn across a velvet armchair that Shea kept in the corner of her room. Her jeans were scattered in an amalgamation of shirts belonging to herself and shorts belonging to Shea, and it felt like she had been cemented into Shea’s life. Her idealistic paintings, her worn brushes and ink stained hands had been placed centre stage, with Shea dancing next to her and around her; _everywhere_.

With one hand caressing Shea’s back, the indentations of her spine prevalent beneath her fingertips and the other weaving itself in Shea’s hair, pulling her closer gently, Sasha sighed. Her lips skimmed across the other girls momentarily.

_“I love you too”._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also feel free to come and chat with me on tumblr! @ silvervelour <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shea had always imagined that she’d sail through college. Thought that she’d float along on a raft, pick up what she required along the way; and leave. It was laughable, almost, to the extent that she could almost hear her mother cursing her, whispering obvious realisations into her ears when she struggled to sleep at night as she laid bungled up in a cocoon of blankets and bleached blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! i'm quite emotional knowing that this is the last one in this tiny, tiny universe, but i've loved writing it! i just want to say thank you to anybody who's taken the time to read it, or comment anything, it means so much! with that said, i hope you enjoy this one ♡

Toes brushed against toes beneath the blankets. Ice shuffling against fire, hail thudding onto lava. Shea’s eyes flickered open, the sensation of her sleep shirt sticking to her shoulder blades in a cold, horrific sweat feeling anything but pleasant. Her head spun. Recollections of the previous night flashing in her foggy vision.

Shea rarely drank, _anymore_ , the novelty having worn away somewhere between her sophomore year of college and discovering that she didn’t need to drown herself in bitter liquor. It wasn’t a requirement to consume her body weight in cocktails for a minute buzz when the morning after she’d find herself reaping the consequences.

Sasha _never_ drank; a fact which Shea was thankful for the previous night when they’d celebrated the theatre departments showcase with martini’s, margaritas and mojitos.  

She began to realise her mistake around two hours in, or two and a half, when her high heels felt like daggers stabbing her ankles and her thoughts were less than coherent, a jumble of gin and whiskey.

Mouth, overly dry, and lips parched. Her body ached for a single drop of water in order to quench her thirst, soften the scratch in her throat. Her tongue felt like the ground of the Sahara as she dragged it across her lips in a failed attempt to moisten them and stop them from cracking with dryness.

Envy swept through her bloodstream as she studied Sasha, still peacefully asleep. With her lips parted, chest rising and falling uniformly, Shea couldn’t disguise the part of her that wished the other girl could feel her pain, even though the thought itself was admittedly sadistic. She groaned lowly as her head continued to hammer.

A colour slathered makeup wipe laid on the bedside table, reminding her of how Sasha had hastily yet warily sat her down on the edge of the bed the night before, wiped off her makeup with gentle strokes and coaxed her under the blankets carefully. She sighed, brushing her fingers through the front strands of her hair, tucking them behind her ears.   

She needed a glass of water.

The white bed sheets looked grey in the low light, daylight barely having broken outside, cracking through cumulonimbus clouds that were ready to precipitate and explode, soak the city and leave the concrete sidewalks smelling of damp.

The smell always reminded Shea of Chicago, when elementary school recess would get cancelled due to an unexpected downpour that would flood the playground, leave the seats of swings swimming in crystal droplets.

She shivered as she made her way to the kitchen, the temperature of the hardwood floor of the main living area contrasting significantly to the plush carpet of her bedroom. Keeping the lights switched off, she opened the nearest cupboard and pulled out a slightly dusty glass. As she trotted over to the sink, hand coming up to rub at her eyes, she could see the shadows of cars driving past being illuminated by the elevated street lamps.

Head pulsing as she stared too closely, she followed the sight blindly, towards the small balcony adjacent to the kitchen. Clad in only her sleep shirt, Shea pushed open the glass door, fingerprints being left behind. Walking on tentative toes to the edge of the balcony, she sipped at her glass of water, elbows resting on the rusty railing surrounding her.

It couldn’t have been any later than _five_ in the early hours of the morning, noted Shea, the sky lavender and purple. The veins in her feet began to camouflage, akin to a chameleon, matching the hues surrounding her due to the frigid breeze - but she payed the fact little attention, ignored it.

She stopped in her tracks momentarily, aforementioned breeze sending her hair gusting across her face, getting caught in the water droplets coating her lips. Lowering the glass, balancing it precariously on the railing, she brushed her hair away.

Sighing, she lifted her head, skyscrapers and apartment complexes towering above her, their sense of grandeur unfathomable. She began smiling sheepishly to herself.

Shea had always imagined that she’d sail through college. Thought that she’d float along on a raft, pick up what she required along the way; _and leave_. It was laughable, _almost_ , to the extent that she could almost hear her mother cursing her, whispering obvious realisations into her ears when she struggled to sleep at night as she laid bungled up in a cocoon of blankets and bleached blonde hair.

Sasha. The balcony. _Hers and Sasha’s balcony_.

Inhaling deeply, the crisp air doing little to quell her fuzzy thoughts and slight nausea, Shea ran her finger beneath her eye. Remnants of black eyeliner and mascara stuck to her skin, accompanied by the occasional fleck of holographic glitter. Exhaling, she tapped her nails across the railing in front of her, the echo ringing in her ears.

She remained stood on the tiled patio, a mix of orange and green mosaics that the previous owners of the place had apparently added. Shea didn’t care either way, not with the terrace area being barely large enough for a small plastic table and two foldable chairs, leaving little space to manoeuvre around them even with simply one person pottering around.

All seemed like an illusion, to the chocolate haired, hazel eyed girl. Living with Sasha still felt like an image she’d conjured up in her mind after days of no sleep, when her thoughts were mere whirlwinds of caffeine and disenchantment.

They had a kitchen, a living room with houseplants that they often forgot to water after days of classes and weekends of insanity. Both girls often doubted if the succulents and cacti would make it to the end of the year alive. _Probably_ _not_ , they’d agreed.

Belongings were scattered across the expanse of the living space, too. Theatre costumes and scrunched up sheet music laid scattered across table surfaces and arm chairs, attributed to Shea, much like the acrylic paints and canvases littered throughout drawers could be traced directly back to Sasha.

Glancing down towards the street below her, Shea’s smile grew. Lips quirking and mouth twitching, she observed as the occasional person walked by on the sidewalk, yellow taxi cabs hurtling past in haste.

Though the city remained asleep, for the most part, or at least the secluded corner of Brooklyn did, Shea could do little to draw her focus away from the commuters and early risers shuffling into cars and onto bicycles.

She set down her glass, now drained empty, onto the cracked plastic table as she heard the door to the balcony click open behind her. Unmoving, she allowed the familiar strong arms to wrap securely around her waist, squeeze tenderly, lips pressing to her bare shoulder as a low hum followed. Placing her own hands on top of Sasha’s, she sighed.

 _Yes_.

*****

Birds chirped, quietly. Their melodic songs floated, travelled in sweet sound waves of harmonious symphonies and fell on deaf ears of a still slumbering city. Sasha could hear them through the single glazed windows of her apartment, the light of dawn permeating ultramarine blue through thin, flimsy curtains.

Sun hid behind clouds in the early hour, threatening to break through momentarily, until Sasha watched in a sleep intoxicated lull as the colour of the room dipped lower. _Navy_.

She rolled on to her side, searching for the duvet that she’d kicked away from her body during sleep as the chill of the air surrounding her prickled at her pale skin. Goosebumps rising, and vision still blurry, Sasha outstretched her arm in search of heat; in search of Shea. Frowning, finger nails scratching across polyester bed sheets in contrast to Shea’s supple skin, Sasha forced consciousness upon herself.

Eyes flashed open wider. The small, analogue clock perched on the bedside table read five fifteen, an hour which Sasha was rarely acquainted with, never acknowledged or cared to arise for. She blinked again, eyes travelling to the large floor to ceiling window shielded with aforementioned gaunt curtains.

Sasha could easily see the outline of the apartment block situated next door to hers, even through the horrific lighting and watering, sleep deprived eyes. She could see the tree that sat barely outside of the window, too, a willow that wept and wailed continuously. Its branches never relented in brushing against the window, clacking and thumping on windier nights.

Inhaling, the unmistakable combination of her own spiced perfume and Shea’s floral one along with both of their shampoos met her senses. Burying her nose into her pillow, she allowed her eyes to flutter closed before swiftly opening them again. Understanding that if she fell back into the comfort of the admittedly cramped double bed that she’d fall back to sleep, she forced herself to sit up, stretching out the muscles of her back and shoulders.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, preparing to stand and make her way to the kitchen even as her subconscious reminded her that Shea had only left to get a drink of water, _probably_ , Sasha sighed.

Her sock clad feet met the soft ivory carpet. She smiled to herself, thankful for having chosen to begrudgingly throw on bed socks the night before, Shea claiming she’d be warmer that way.

She knew that Sasha found the Autumn and Winter unbearably cold, even if she always argued that _I’m Russian, I can handle these temperatures_. Shea would find it amusing, bundling the shorter girl up in the warmth of numerous thick sweaters and arms as she whispered words of calming assertion into her frostbitten ears, tips cardinal red.

Sasha stood up on aching legs, clumsy from sleep with her eyes still bleary and balance disorientated. With the door to the bedroom having been left open, the darkness from the living room creeping in ominously, she flicked on the light switch, her eyes scrunching up in dismay and aggravation.

She already longed to go back to bed.

*****

“What are you doing out here this early?”. Mumbled Sasha, warm breath hitting Shea’s stoic shoulder. Shea blinked, turned around in Sasha’s arms before she looped her own loosely around the blondes waist.

Gasping, her body jumping responsively, Sasha grappled to take ahold of Shea’s hand, the ice cold skin making her frown protectively. The light hit Shea awkwardly from where she stood, her eyes seeming darker. Sasha recoiled noticeably.

“Shea, you’re _freezing_ ”. Sasha murmured worriedly, rubbing one of Shea’s hands between both of her own, as she stood in her own sleep shirt and fluffy cotton bed socks with her hair dishevelled and wavy. Shrugging slowly, Shea retracted her hand from Sasha’s, placing it distractedly at her side.

“I didn’t realise I’d been out here this long-”, chuckled Shea halfheartedly, cold smoke leaving her mouth and evaporating into the air surrounding them. Sasha’s face relaxed, empathy becoming evident. Clutching both of Shea’s hands once again in her own, she stepped as close to Shea as she felt possible, body heat reverberating between them. “-I still feel drunk, a ‘lil hungover”. She continued miserably.

“It’s ok”. Sasha soothed, allowing Shea to break one hand free, trail it up the length of her goose bump covered arm, past her elbow and up to her hair. Shea twirled the shoulder length platinum strands between her thumb and forefinger, her face remaining seemingly vacant. Sasha furrowed her eyebrows, stroking her thumb across the back of Shea’s hand that she still held, dissociation and detachment flickering across the girls face.

“I’m still not used to you with this hair again”. Shea said, her tone monotonous and exhausted. Blinking once, dumbfounded, Sasha pulled Shea into her arms further, wrapping her up in comfort and reassurance.

She felt Shea relax, her posture slumping and chest slouching as she exhaled raggedly. Sasha watched over Shea’s shoulder intently as the sun peeked from behind the clouds.

“Come back to bed, hm?-”. Sasha pulled away enough in order to gaze directly into Shea’s eyes, glazed over with unexplained tears. “-Please?”. Added Sasha, Shea’s hand trailing through the cropped lengths of her hair once more. _I’m still not used to you with this hair again._

Shea nodded once. _Bed_.

*****

_The artificial strip light of the bathroom was bright, contrived. Lemon, borderline citrine ripples refracted off of the mirror and back to Sasha’s face where her eyebrows seemed sharp, severe, and her eyelashes spidery from the shadows. Her hair glowed neon, as the sharp craft scissors that she knew weren’t suitable reflected the same lighting; harshly._

_Bleached, overly damaged and split blonde hair sat past her chest, longer than she’d ever intended for it to grow. She wanted, needed change. Craved the uncertainty she would feel after altering her appearance, when she would catch a glimpse of herself in the polished glass of a shop window and recoil, her face unrecognizable. Inhaling deeply, she lifted her hand._

_Holding the blades to the lengths of the untamed strands, she allowed the scissors to snap closed, each individual hair snapping one by one. She could feel them falling, inside her top and down her stomach, tickling her skin, landing on the floor at her feet and getting stuck to the bare flesh irritatingly._

_Every section she chopped felt like strings being broken, tightening and then releasing before vanishing, some getting washed away by the running clear water of the sink._

_Sasha continued, dropping the scissors carefully onto the surface when she heard the door to her dormitory open, the spare key jiggling in the lock. Smiling to herself, satisfied with the familiar glint that had returned to her eyes, Sasha focused on the sound of a bag being dropped precariously in her bedroom._

_Remaining stationary, only humming when a tentative knock echoed against the bathroom door, reverberated around the room, Sasha turned her head towards the girl._

Shea.

_Beaming widely to begin with, before her eyes followed the new length of Sasha’s hair and down the fold of her arm, to the scissors resting on the surface, Shea stepped forward. Her eyes widened slowly, her jaw dropping in bewilderment as she reached out to touch Sasha’s hair that barely grazed her shoulders._

_Staring up at Shea intently, her eyes glazed over and bottom lip held worryingly between pearly teeth, Sasha shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. Shea proceeded to fondle the now softer strands gently, almost cautiously as if stroking too aggressively would make more brittle platinum snap off of the blunt ends, join the substantial pile of already debauched tendrils on the tiled floor._

_“Don’t ask-”. Sasha murmured lowly, propping her hip against the counter. Shea leant with her, magnetised, bothered little by the microscopic white trimmings adhering to her her black, fluffy sweater. “-I just had to”. Concluded the blonde, hair bouncing noticeably as she spoke timidly._

_“I like it”. Responded Shea easily, hand finally dropping from Sasha’s hair and coming to rest in the belt loop of her pants. With the initial shock wearing away, vanishing akin to a wilting orchid, she came to the conclusion that she looked like Sasha. Her eyes sparkled at the affirmation, cheeks glowing with mirth and prosperity as she brought her hand up to touch at the same section that Shea had._

_She owned the semblance of the Sasha that had stumbled into Katya’s living room, snatched the joint from her weak grasp as quickly as she had captured her attention, oil paint streaked through her hair and lipstick both smudged and faded. The same Sasha that had sauntered unapologetically late into the cafe that they now frequented - Delacremé - on their first date, similarly to how she’d stumbled effortlessly into Shea’s everyday existence._

_Fleetingly yet,_ committed _._

_“I might do something with my hair too, get some highlights or something”. Shea mused, catching sight of her own hair in the large mirror adjacent to where they stood, unmoving._

_Sasha’s grin grew momentarily as she imagined Shea’s hair a rainbow of singularity. A pastel rosé that matched her vibe identically, soft yet strong, definable and sweet, or a faded teal, which would contrast significantly. The thought made her chuckle even as she acknowledged Shea would probably never do such a thing._

_“Hmm, I think that'd suit you”. Breathed Sasha, face nearing Shea’s and exhalations hitting her cheek. Toying with the idea briefly in her mind, Shea pressed her pout to the corner of Sasha’s mouth, disregarding the purple print she knew she would leave behind. Shea raised her eyebrow quizzically, intrigued, to which the freshly shorter haired blonde responded with a brisk kiss of her own; to the lips._

_Sasha knew it would._

*****

_Shea got the highlights._

_Faint streaks of caramel and honey trickled through the dark chocolate strands, capturing the light inexplicably. The length still flowed down her back, in waves and bouncy, voluminous curls which sprung with her step._

_She looked radiant and alive, to Sasha. To herself, she looked like Shea, and understood as her girlfriend embraced her the instant that she stepped through the door to her dormitory, why the Russian had done it._

_Why she’d panicked, entered a state of dissociation and detachment, ending the evening with a craft scissors lathered in hardened PVA glue chopping relentlessly at the deteriorated strands, until they’d ended up being flushed down drain pipes and into waste systems;_ forgotten _._

_Shea coated her smile in red lipstick whilst Sasha was showering that night, sneaking the drugstore tube from the girls hectic dresser and sitting, applying it carefully. Rubbing her lips together, she found herself grinning genially towards the mirror, the image of Sasha approaching behind her wrapped in a bath towel startling her momentarily._

_Sasha settled next to her on the small stool, carelessly allowing the towel to dip as it wished, Shea’s eyes wandering secretly. Droplets of cooling water collected in the caverns of her prominent collarbones as Shea asked her. Asked her if she’d assist her in perfecting winged eyeliner, because she’d_ always _been self-admittedly horrifically bad at it, and Sasha - was_ good _._

_They sat there, giggling when Shea struggled endlessly to get both eyes even, amongst cardboard boxes, tissue paper and bubble wrap that had been steadily compiling themselves over the course of the Summer months._

_Sasha chuckled brazenly, setting the eyeliner down on the dresser next to the still open tube of lipstick as Shea skirted around the room, barely able to weave in and out of the chaos of moving to an apartment within the coming days._

_Shea managed a smile in response, pulling out the shirt that she’d been looking for from under a pile of carton and bottled acrylic paint. Smiling apologetically, her own search for clothing that hadn’t been already packed away proving to be more challenging than she initially thought, she observed as Shea rolled her eyes comically. The other girls apartment looked the same, or possibly worse. She sighed, grinned eagerly._

_It felt like growing together._

*****

When Sasha awoke for the second time hours later, when the sun had risen fully and the room no longer felt as cold, it was due to the distinctive smell of blueberry pancakes wafting through the air, tickling at her nostrils. A seventies classic vinyl could be heard playing in the background, a captivating mixture of synthesizers, chorus originating from the living area.

The world was awake, even though Shea was absent from the bed again, not curled up under heavy blankets with her head resting on Sasha’s chest, heartbeat tapping rhythmically against her ear.

She could practically taste the stale smell of alcohol that had stuck to the pillowcases, weaving it’s way between strands of cotton and polyester. The thought itself repulsed her, even as she acknowledged that she _wanted_ this.

Wanted to wake up to Shea on cold Sunday mornings when snowflakes had adhered to windowpanes and sidewalks were lethal with ice. Wished for Shea to pepper kisses across her shoulders in order to make her eyes flutter open when they were both living in a house together, or at least a bigger apartment.

She could picture a room for her art and a Piano for Shea, rather than a shoe box in a stuffy yet eccentric corner of New York where their neighbours played unrelenting bass music from stereos throughout the night.

Sitting up, relaxing the muscles in her spine, Sasha leant against the metal frame of the headboard. Pulling the duvet over her bare legs in order to protect them from the cool air of the room, she flicked off the flickering lamp on the bedside table. The room was lit enough, she reasoned, the navy blue from the early hours of the morning having been replaced by a delicate apricot.

Pots and pans clattered in the kitchen as Sasha switched on her phone. Eleven o’clock. She discarded it aimlessly on the bedside table, next to the lamp, ears focusing on the footsteps nearing the doorway to the room that remained ajar. Sweeping around the corner, Shea smiled warmly towards her, tray in arms piled high with stacks of pancakes and two cups of coffee.

They balanced precariously, the steam rising and flushing Shea’s cheeks a glowing pink as she made her way over to the welcoming bed, placing the tray down before slipping into the empty place besides Sasha. Smiling gingerly, Sasha lifted the mug off of the tray and to her mouth. Froth grazed the tip of her nose, the contrast between her choice of coffee compared to Shea’s making her snigger lowly.

“Are you laughing at my coffee choice?”. Mumbled Shea, lifting her own mug and sipping at the molten liquid tentatively. The bitter flavour ran down her throat, earthy and gritty. Sasha chuckled, rolling her eyes in response.

"I don't know _how_ you can drink it without milk and sugar". Sasha laughed quietly, her own drink comprised of more milk than coffee, and with more sugar than what would have been deemed acceptable. Shea joined her, giggling lowly.

"Leave me alone-". She mumbled, slouching into Sasha’s side, curling her knees up to her chest and dragging the blanket over the both of them. Cautious of the tray perched next to them, Shea leant her head against Sasha’s shoulder. "I'm recovering-". She finished, pouting her lips and gazing up at Sasha with wide eyes. Grimacing apologetically, Sasha reached for the plate of piping pancakes.

“Are you feeling any better?-”. Soothed the blonde, allowing Shea’s hand to skirt in front of her, steal a pancake from the top of the stack. “-Hungover?”. Proceeded Sasha, smirk gracing her features and transforming her lazy grin.

“I feel fine, actually-”. Shea nodded her head, chin bobbing against Sasha’s shoulder as she spoke. Sasha arched a sculpted eyebrow, observing Shea sceptically. Shea smiled honestly, and Sasha understood. Knew that Shea did feel fine, eyes gleaming truthfully. “-I just shotgunned two energy drinks, which _might’ve_ been a questionable decision but I do feel better now, so yeah”. Shea trailed off, laughing; _unsure_.

"Shea you can't do that, you'll like, _die_ of a caffeine overdose". Forehead furrowing frightenedly, nervous laugh slipping past her lips, Sasha placed her hand atop of Shea’s, the coffee in her cup threatening to spill over the rim. Shrugging, Shea continued biting into her pancake, the occasional smudge of blueberry sauce getting caught on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m fine, I swear, just _really_ god damn hungry”. Mused Shea, finishing her first pancake and moving onto the second before Sasha had so much as glanced at them, acknowledged that the edges of more than half of them were slightly burnt. _Neither were great cooks_ , she noted.

They continued eating slowly, steadily. Sasha leant back against the headboard, further reclining her shoulders as her sleep shirt slipped unintentionally. Shea smiled absentmindedly, running her finger over the dainty rose tattoo that had been exposed on Sasha’s chest with a feather light touch.

Sasha smiled, _too_ , dimples in her cheeks becoming prominent as she did so. Setting down the empty plate onto the tray on the bedside table, though remaining uncharacteristically silent, the Russian peered over at Shea. Staring back at her with her mouth agape in a frivolous grin, Shea trailed her hand down from Sasha’s chest and to her supple, naked thigh.

She squeezed once.

Gasping, Sasha revelled in the lustful gaze that Shea flashed her way, blueberry sauce still coating the corner of her mouth alluringly. A flicker of sunlight flashed throughout the room, illuminating Shea’s eyes a rich, untainted amber. Inhaling deeply, Sasha focused on how the dark haired girls chest rose and fell deeply, her skin appearing to glitter with radiance, the warm terracotta aura of the room all encompassing.

“Are you alright?”. Hummed Shea, Sasha’s thumb wiping at the corner of her mouth, retracting it and flicking her own tongue across the fruity sweetness. Eyes narrowing, her pupils dilating, Sasha nodded. She hooked her leg across Shea’s, the dancers hand travelling to her waist as she did so, sunlight catching in the pink tourmaline ring she wore on her right hand.

Taking ahold of Shea’s hand, Sasha placed it upon the buttons of her oversized sleep shirt, signalling to Shea that she could. Was granted the inessential permission in order to begin unbuttoning said shirt, place butterfly kisses to every inch of velvety skin that was uncovered, revealed to Shea’s preying eyes.

Breath still smelt like coffee as Shea straddled her girlfriend, their lips colliding forcefully, _impassioned_. Hands tugged at the few remaining items of clothing still wrapped around each others bodies; shirts and shorts. A sigh escaped Sasha’s lips, broke free from the captivity she kept them under.  

Shea pushed Sasha down gently, until she was laid on her back, surrounded by a sea of pillows and an ocean of blankets, her milky skin blending enticingly with the ivory sheets.

Shea awed at the softness of her body, elegant neck and regal decolletage, rounded shoulders and swollen breasts. How her stomach, taught and unpredictably muscular would flex as she moved, thighs tensing with frustration when Shea kept her titillating on the edge for a second too long.  

Trailing open mouthed kisses from Sasha’s mouth, breath coming out in short puffs, and down to her jaw and neck, Shea ghosted her lips across galaxies of freckles beauty marks; _synonymous with grace._

The blonde sighed, feeling Shea’s teeth graze against the throbbing vein in her neck, pulsing with each beat of her heart, each stroke of Shea’s fingers across her hip bone or down the length of her arm and to her elbow.

Eyes drifting closed, heat flushing through the entirety of her body, Sasha wrapped her arms further around Shea’s back. Her hands smoothed, glided, got tangled in her hair occasionally as her short nails left sickle shaped indentations and illusory scratches across her spine.

Sasha nibbled on her bottom lip, roughly, and she knew it’d be sore, tender in the hours following - But Shea’s kisses had travelled back up to her puffy lips, began kissing them with renewed vigor as Sasha’s calloused fingertips ran over her hips, her thighs, across the faint rose petal stretch marks that reminded the blonde that Shea was real. This was real.

“Ok?”. Exhaled Shea, pupils dilating. Nodding her head slowly, Sasha linked her arms behind Shea’s shoulders, pulling her down by the wispy baby hairs at the nape of her statuesque neck until she hovered millimetres above Sasha’s lips, sharing the same air.

Tugging gently, Sasha watched as Shea’s eyes slipped closed momentarily, an uninhibited groan slipping past her parted lips and into Sasha’s, into the depths of want and need coursing unrestricted around her body.

Shea smiled, and Sasha understood, knew that the taller girl had mastered how to touch her, down to every minuscule, unclockable detail. She knew that when she was tired, exhausted after a long day, that Sasha wanted her to be slow, wanted it to be gentle, compared to if she was frustrated; enraged and sullen. She’d want Shea to scratch marks down the expanse of her back, leave raised bumps of skin so that she could feel everything.

 _Everything_.

Feel the intensity, and wanted her to bite and kiss her neck, suck on her rosy nipples until they stood, _even_ harder. Sasha would drag her down by her hair, strands pulling at her sensitive scalp, moans bursting from the confines of her lungs so that she’d continue. The cool air of the room would make them burn, flames of ice, embers of snow, as she directed them to the bathroom. Ripping garments and items of clothing off as they went, they’d take it in turns pressing each other forcefully against the frigid tiles of the shower wall.

They’d trip and laugh about it, _occasionally_ , soapy hands grasping for purchase on slippery skin and wetness as they proceeded, the scratches on Sasha’s back scorching. Searing, she’d allow them, because Shea would be surrounding her, in the tepid bathroom light. Hands on her neck, breasts, mouth on her inner thighs and between her legs, caressing, _massaging_. Face right next to her own, cheek to _cheek_ , nose to _nose_ , warm breath fogging up the glass panels of the shower expeditiously.

But sometimes, Shea _knew_. Knew that sometimes Sasha just wanted to be held and reassured, even though it’s more of what she _needs_ than what she _wants_ , to have the thoughts in her mind taken away for the brief duration that they were wrapped up in each others welcoming arms.

It would be intimate, magnificently so. Eyes wide open, or as open as they could muster, the way Sasha’s pupils would blow, signalling to Shea as her eyelashes fluttered that _yes, that._

Trailing kisses down Sasha’s torso, Shea kept one hand intertwined with the blondes as her nails habitually and unwittingly dug into the sweaty palm of Shea’s hand. Smiling to herself, corners of her lips quirking upwards, Shea allowed the hand gripping Sasha’s to squeeze back strenuously, knowing that the markings would be visible long after their breathing had calmed, heartbeats had returned to their usual, normal rates.

Shea would suck gentle bruises on to Sasha's inner thighs in the autumn and winter, when the Russian could cover up with pants and tights, though wouldn't dare do it in the summer. Instead she'd scatter them across hip bones, and the swell of Sasha's breasts under sweltering sunlight and glowing nights that refused to dim before the late hours.

“Yeah?”. Clarified Shea, thumb and forefinger pinching at the girls sensitive inner thighs, slick with desire. Descending her head, Shea pressed an ephemeral peck to the juncture between upper thigh and stomach, the skin found there both salty and sweet; sweat and _need_. Sasha mewled lowly, eyes connecting with Shea’s as she felt one finger enter her slowly, painstakingly.

Her head lolled back against the dented pillows, mind sinking into a cloud of bliss and relaxation, euphoria and comfort prickling heatedly at her skin.

Coercing her eyes open, she caught Shea staring up at her intently, purposefully. She gripped Sasha’s hand tighter, eyes narrowing. Two fingers, three fingers, strong tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves that made Sasha’s back arch and thoughts spin in a hurricane of lust.

Body jerking, fingers curling and hooking inside of her, Sasha whimpered. She’d attempt to remain quiet, silent most of the time, the sounds that emerged from her throat inconceivable to her own ears. But Shea brought them out even as she fought to keep them captive, unlocked the barred cage, key being buried somewhere offshore, waters deceiving.

Threading her free hand in Shea’s hair, Sasha’s eyes slipped closed once more, eyelashes tickling her under eyes and quick, trembling breaths blowing tendrils of hair that had fallen from her face away, despite some sticking aggravatingly to the beads of sweat gathering on both her forehead and cheeks. Her heels scraped against the bedsheets as she brought her knees up.

The room lit up, beams of sunlight streaking through the gap in the curtains, illuminating Sasha's hair in a rainbow around her head, a soft blonde halo. Her eyes squinted as the brightness shot across her face, lines and shadows projecting themselves over the supple sheets and Sasha's flushed skin.

“ _God_ , shea-”. She groaned. Her soft moans encouraged the girl further even as she struggled for breath, Sasha’s hips jerking as Shea crooked her fingers skillfully, orgasm rippling waves through her body, cascading through nerve endings and tumbling off of cliffs edges. Endorphins trickled through her bloodstream, a high that Sasha could never achieve from any drug or substance.

Unmatched, _transcendent_.

Sasha hauled Shea up speedily, twitching with aftershocks, her pale chest flushed pink and bleached strands of hair sticking to her forehead with her eyebrow hairs swiped in the wrong direction.

She pulled at Shea's hips, until she was hovering over her mouth, too lethargic and blissed out to flip Shea over like she sometimes would, fingers pumping and stroking exactly, relentlessly as she breathed shakily into the dark haired girls ear, nibbling at her lobe.

She pulled Shea down to meet her lips, Shea's hips stuttering and bucking forward when Sasha's tongue flicked, hit the point of pleasure directly before two slender artistic fingers entered her, making her body almost double over as she gripped at the headboard tightly, the metal growing sweaty beneath her fingertips.

“Sash-”. She glanced down meaningfully at Sasha when she was close, almost there, eyes locking as her jaw dropped, thighs clenching and squeezing, muffling Sasha's hearing. Shea's moans remained erotically angelic, through her obstructed hearing and her own pulse thumping in her eardrums, Shea’s reaction reigniting the flame that had dwindled in her core.

Slowing her movements, Sasha grinned as she pulled her mouth away, feeling Shea still clenching rhythmically around her fingers. Whimpering as Sasha slowly retracted her hand, gripped her upper thigh and up to her hip, Shea stroked her thumb across the blondes forehead. Chest fluttering, Sasha ran her tongue across her top lip.

 _sweetness_.

Shea took a moment, steadying her knees before moving to the side of Sasha, the blonde instantly curling up to her side and throwing her leg across Shea's, her arm wrapping around her slender waist and pulling her in close. They kissed slowly, the taste of each other still on the tips of their tongues. It was disgustingly alluring, Sasha threading a hand in Shea’s tangled hair.

Relaxing, Shea ran her own fingers through Sasha’s equally as dishevelled hair, brushing out tangles and knots. She could feel herself coming back down to earth, a paper aeroplane descending back to the ground after being caught up in a gust of wind, crumpling on landing.

Sasha’s gaze roamed around the room, across discarded clothing and makeup scattered across their shared dresser, and to empty coffee cups placed on the bedside table.

Running her hand up and down Sasha’s back, fingertips massaging into the indentations of her spine, Shea shuffled further down the bed. With her head resting on two pillows, and Sasha’s head moving to rest on her chest, she dragged the duvet over the both of them.

enveloped in a cocoon of warmth, Shea observed as Sasha’s scrutiny landed upon her stack of books; classical dance and theatrics, situated in the corner of the room. Sasha stiffened, halting her movements, the caress of her thumb along Shea’s hipbone pausing. Rubbing her hand across her brow bone haphazardly, Sasha’s breathing quickened once again, this time unwittingly.

“Shea?”. Murmured Sasha, tentatively, as if speaking at too high of a volume would disturb the peace that had settled between them, emitted throughout the apartment. Shea squeezed her shoulder instinctively, a car horn blasting outside of the window, curtains floating in the breeze.

“Hmm?”. Shea’s heartbeat still thudded, thighs and chest glistening with beads of sweat. Eyes flickering under her eyelashes, Sasha glanced up towards Shea, her Mediterranean orbs glistening with unshed tears as they bored into Shea’s. Inhaling deeply, the blonde nibbled at her lower lip anxiously.

“Do you ever think about what will happen after college?-”. She began, exhaling the breath that she had been holding moments later, on to Shea’s collarbone, goosebumps rising. “-You know, when all of _this_ is done, when it’s all over, what will happen?”. Concluded Sasha, worry prevalent on her features.

 Shea gulped. It was a subject rarely trod upon. They never spoke about it, hardly mentioned the idea of life post college, when they were both approaching the age of twenty-three with their respective degrees in hand, minds filled with uncertainty. Shea would often remind herself to focus on the present. Sasha would find such a task difficult.

 _Imposible_.

Sasha knew that she wasn’t a positive person, despite sometimes being cautiously optimistic. She understood that she was intense, deep, filled to the brim with _what_ _if’s_ and _maybe’s_ that often warned off any possibilities. The beat of her heart got caught in her throat, swallowing the growing ambiguity of her thoughts. Sails torn and storm intensifying, Sasha resigned herself to sinking, drowning, allowing water to fill her lungs and lay her on the bottom of the ocean bed.

“Do you have to have your existential crisis now?”. Shea huffed out a laugh, her chest heaving. Despite acknowledging Shea’s playful tone, Sasha could feel her fingers twitching, fist clenching unintentionally in irritation.

“ _Please_ don’t-”. Cutting her words off, slicing them with a guillotine, Sasha shifted uncomfortably against Shea’s side. The heat from the blankets felt like too much, felt like flames kissing her skin as the claws of Shea’s hand dug into her spine. She shivered.

“No, no look, I’m sorry it’s just-”. Shea began elaborating, seeking to form her words into intelligible sentences that would coax Sasha’s thoughts away from negativity, away from the months that seemed too far away, inconceivably so.

“How can you _not_ think about it?-”. Interjected Sasha, jaw clenching. “I know it’s a while away yet but it just seems _so_ close and I - I just don’t know if I’m prepared for the change that’ll come with it-”. She stopped in order to inhale, compose her ramblings as Shea looked on empathetically, hand persistently stroking the small of her back.

“-You know, how many people will I keep in contact with? What will I do for a job? Will - will I even stay in New York?-”. Sasha could feel unwanted tears gathering angrily in the corners of her eyes, one, _two_ spilling over before she could reign them in. shushing her soothingly, Shea began mumbling sweet nothings into the blondes ear, the skin overheated.

 _Trembling_.

“-What’ll happen to _us_?”. Whispered Sasha, tears flowing in free fall and dragging the remnants of mascara and eyeliner down her cheeks, neck. Shea could feel her own eyes growing puffy, vision becoming blurrier than it had with one too many cocktails in her system. Tugging on Sasha’s arm, she pulled the girl up with her, their nude backs pressed against the raw metal of the headboard.

“I’m just scared”. Sasha confessed, barely audible words hitting Shea’s neck as the younger girl pulled Sasha’s shaking body against her own. Bare shoulders pressed against shoulders and chests as hands intertwined, the duvet remaining wrapped securely around them.

Shea sighed unevenly, the luminescent lighting of the room seemingly mocking the sullen atmosphere. Sasha still felt warm under the blankets, her skin prickling with torridity despite no longer feeling restricted. The blankets were a shield, Shea being her armour, protecting her from the bullets that threatened to slip from her own hand.

“I _do_ think about it, sometimes-”. Shea gently took ahold of Sasha’s chin with her thumb and forefinger, tilting Sasha’s head up as She tenderly delivered her admission. “But you know what? I’m not worried”. She finished, Sasha’s bloodshot eyes gazing up at her quizzically, _intrigued_.

“It's like you say, sash, what's meant to be will happen regardless of you trying to change it-”. Began Shea, linking her hand with Sasha’s, fingers weaving between fingers. The tears leaving Sasha’s eyes began to fall slower, with less anguish.

“-I'm not worried because I _know_ things will work out. Yes we might lose contact with some friends, but I don't think we'd be able to get rid of _some_ of them even if we tried at this point. Like - Trixie and Katya are practically family, _y'know_?-”. The corners of Sasha’s mouth curled as she glanced briefly over Shea’s shoulder, a Polaroid of the four girls pinned to the wall.

Nodding her head slowly, teeth still nibbling at her kiss swollen bottom lip, leaving behind a miniscule blood spot, Sasha squeezed Shea’s hand.

 _Continuation_.

“-And we're, we're _us_. We live together, I love _you_. If you don't want to stay in New York then we'll leave. We'll leave _together_ and take our degrees in our suitcases and run to the opposite side of the country, or even the world because I know how much you've wanted to visit Australia for _ages_ now-”. A grin slowly formed across the expanse of the blondes face, Shea’s eyes glinting with relief as it did so.

Running her thumb under Sasha’s eyes, wiping away her drying tears, Shea felt the other girls cheeks rising, grin transforming from meager joy to uninhibited glee. Shea pulled their bodies closer together, Sasha’s skin against hers allowing her to feel grounded.

”-I just want you to be happy, because you’re an _amazing_ artist and an _amazing_ human being and I know you'll get work anywhere, you'll make it happen. I can imagine you painting beaches in Sydney and Brisbane, _finally_ getting over your hatred of landscapes and-”. Halting her words, Shea pursed her lips. Observing, she watched as Sasha’s tongue poked at the inside of her cheek, laughter on the verge of escaping her being.

Sasha cocked her eyebrow, questioning Shea. _Maybe not_. Both knew that Sasha would probably never be truly comfortable painting, sketching or photographing landscapes. Would focus on portrait for the entirety of her career, fine liner brushes and acrylic paints dancing elegantly across canvases in order to form features, characteristics.  

“-Ok, maybe the last point is a little bit of a push”. Admitted Shea, giggling airily, index finger tapping at the tip of Sasha’s nose. Settling back into the bed fully, Sasha’s chin resting on Shea’s shoulder as they continued mindless conversation, Sasha ran her tongue across her lips, faint taste of coffee still vaguely present.

“We've got this, haven't we?”. Breathed Sasha, Shea’s hand pushing strands of wispy platinum hair off of her face, nails scratching soothingly at her scalp as she did so. Shea smiled softly, lovingly.  

_“We've got everything, girl”._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also feel free to come and chat with me on tumblr! @ silvervelour ♡


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